
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelfl I' ^ « {{ 
^ ^-^- 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



JAN 14 1899 

American Verse 



A COLLECTION OF SHORT POEMS 



y Compiled by 

SCROLL PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



COPYRIGHT i8 
CHICAGO, 

L. 



P^\ 6 /Q ex r\ <x 



T5k 



TWO COPIES RECclVED, 





SILENT LOVE. 

iX the deep recess of my heart 
There is a love untold, 
Placed there by the kindest words 
That man could e'er behold. 
It is not right to tell her, 

But only to breathe a pi-ayer 
That she will soon forget me, — 
Forget, and not despair. 

Her every word breathes love to me, 

As soft as music sweet; 
Her heart it craves that one desire. 

My love, laid at her feet. 
Into my silent dreams she conies, 

Soft as an angeFs song, 
And rests in peace and happiness 

Until the vision's gone. 

Craving a heart's devotion 

In a most pathetic way. 
Longing, and patiently waiting, 

For that bright and happy day. 
When she and I shall meet and love 

And sorrow all be past; 
The day will come — I know it will — 

And all be right at last. 

— Charles Sheldon lioe. 




YULE-TIDE VISIONS. 

ESIDE the yule-log's yellow blaze 
What visions come and go, 
Of other lips that quaffed the wine 
That erst- while used to flow; 
Of sparkling eyes, whose looks of love 

Made rounded cheeks to glow; 
And tripping feet, whose rhythmic time 
Made music long ago; 

Of dainty forms in stiff brocade, 

With patch and powdered hair. 
In girlish dignity sweep down 

The polished oaken stair. 
To meet some knight in waiting 

In sash and doublet, 
To tread with him, in measured step, 

The stately minuet. 

What vows beneath the pendant spray 

Were plighted with a kiss! 
What thrilling tales of love were tohl 

That filled some heart with bliss! 
In curtained recess, dimly lit 

By fire light's flash and glow. 
How many lovers sealed their bliss 

Beneath the mistletoe! 

— N'. Marie Davol. 




DEWEY'S FAMOUS SECOND ORDER. 

^JTRIKE! for your God and country; 
Strike! for the cause of right." 
'Tis done! "One hour for breakfast," 
Orders next the man of might. 

And the belching cannon ceased 

Their murderous mighty roar, 
As the wave of cheers increased 

For our humane Commodore. 

It was like a benediction 

For those toiling, nerve-w^'ought men; 
Like the voice of God in blessing 

Coming down to mortal ken. 

Like a burst of morning sunshine, 

Briugfinoj oiadness and relief 
To those struggling weary seamen, 

Was this message from their chief. 

As on smoking ships, still battling. 

In far-famed Manilla Bay, 
Came this touch of human kindness 

On that fearful first of May. 

Next to Dewey's stroke for country. 

Next to Dewey's cyclone blow. 
Shall his famous humane order 

Down the cycling ages glow. 

— Col. James de JBaun. 




MY SOUL. 

K stars, that from the heavens beam 
Upon the azure crown of night, 
Vouchsafe, in your expiring gleam, 
To me this inward light! 
Beyond what voids came ye hence? 
And, when the empurpled dawn appears. 
Ye haste to distant goals, — but whence, — - 
To shine on other spheres? 

What mysteries doth the upper deep 

Unfold to your cold gaze alone. 

Where formless worlds still nascent sleep. 

Beneath the gelid zone? 
What endless cycles had ye run 
In nature's long, primoi'dial night. 
Ere earth's creation was begun, 

Or time's memorial flight? 

What fate awaits, of woe or weal, 
The trembling soul to death betrayed? 
When lightnings blast, or frosts congeal, 

In that abysmal shade? 
Ah, tell me, if beyond the mete. 
We pass into the outer night, — 
Or doth some angel guide our feet 

Towards the realms of light? 



Still vainly we iBterrogate 
The vast unknown; eternal bars 
Enseal the registry of fate, 

And silent are the stars I 
Roll on, ye wondrous orbs, through space. 
In solemn grandeur and in gloom! 
But when ye've run the mighty race, 

Thfc swaddling clothes of doom, 

Shall quench your lambent flames and hide 

Fore'er your holy astral light. 

And later stars shall deck with pride 

The bride of God, the Night! 
And when, dissolved in cosmic dust, 
The spheres shall vanish as they roll, 
A vital spark within this bust 

Shall still survive— My Soul! 

— Thaddeus ^V. Willicans. 




AN EARLY CALLER. 

TINY bird in ermine wrap 

Was pecking at my window pane; 
It had disturbed my morning nap 
Would Morpheus return atainV 

Pve many little feathered pets 

Tliat I regard as friends; 
We part in autumn with regret, 

And meet again when the winter ends. 

It is, perhaps, a friendly ctiU 

To say to me "good-byl'" 
They go when leaves l)egin to fall, 

Bleak winds begin to sigh. 

I saw its plumage, chaste and neat. 

Heard gentle rap[)ing on the pane; 
An early call to kindly greet, 

It certainly was not the rain. 

Tap, tap, tap, tap, I heard again. 

And then I hastened to reply; 
But now on ev'ry window pane 

It came with intervening sigh. 

But hark! a gentle voice I heard, 
"Have you forgotten your old ]»(.t':' 

I am the little tiny bird 

In ermine wrap; I wear it yet." 

It was a friend of long ago, 

Of charming grace in diamonds dressed; 
And it was christened Beautiful Snow, 

That now had called to be my guest. 

— John Bachelder 



10 



THE NATIVITY. 

TRAINS of sweet music were borne on the air 
On the night when the Christ-child w.is born: 
Angelic visitants, radiant and fair, 
Mingled rapturous voices in song. 

On green sloping hillsides devout shepherds lay 
With liearts all attuned to their strain: 

Long had they waited for this blessed day — 
The dawn of Messiah's pure reign. 

The atmosphere glowed with shimmer and sheen, 

The heavens aHame with new light; 
Such rapturous visions had never l)een seen 

As came to the shepherds tliat night. 

"All glory to (lod in the highest!" they sang, 
"Peace on earth and good will to all menl" 

Hillside and valley reechoed the strain. 
Repeated again and again. 

The shepherds with eagerness hastened away 

To find the young child and adore, 
And joyously fell at his feet, as he lay 

In a manger, so humble and poor. 

Oh, exquisite blessing, rejoicing all men, 

That came on that night long ago: 
A joy never ceasing, a joy without end, 

Whitdi all of earth's children may know. 

— il/r.s'. Lizzie llanby Collier. 



11 




THE SHADES OF THE LOST. 

HE pine trees whisper unkindly to me 
As I walk in their shade at even, 
And say, '-You are lost for eternity 
To love, to hojie, to heaven I" 

Why do they whisper such dreadful things? 

To them I owe no duty, 
And I seek the shade of the forest kings 

To admire their stately beauty. 

What do they know of my life ere now, 

How in evil paths I have trod? 
But they whisper of that, and seem to know 

Of a great and awful God. 

I sent my friend of noble caste, 
Pure in life as an angel's dream. 

To walk alone in the self-same patli, 
And note what was said to him. 

He soon returned with word and look — 

A sight that was good to see; 
"Whispered those trees beside the brook 

Only the kindest word," s:iid he. 

The lost ones need not church nor ]>riest 

To tell of their sad condition, 
For nature's words to the heart of each 

Need no priest for their rendition. 

And we only reap what we have sown — 

A law fixed as fate can be; 
Of joy and hope to worth alone, 

And the fate of the lost for me. 



1! 




MY DOLLY. 

HAYE a little <lolly, 

Her name is Dorothy ; 
fli She is the sweetest baby 
That ever you did see: 
She is a little darling, 

And dresses very neat; 
But one thing I don't like at all — 
She has such great big feet. 

Her golden hair is fluffy; 

Her cheeks are like the rose; 
And everybody loves her, 

No matter where she goes; 
Her eyes they shine like diamonds; 

Her mouth is small and sweet; — 
But isn't it just awful 

That she has such big feet? 

She smiles so very sweetly, 

Ah, mel when I come near; 
And then I hug and kiss her, 

And call her "mama's dear." 
For a nice looking baby, 

I know she can't be beat — ■ 
Of course, with the exception 

Of her two great big feet. 

Now if her feet keep growing. 

As they are apt to grow. 
How to keep her in shoe leather 

I really do not know. 
This is the hardest trial 

I have ever had to meet: 
And all because my Dorothy 

Has such great big feet. 

— L. Craig Waldron. 
1:3 



LENTEN VESPER MUSIC. 




OLEMNLY, slowly, sadly at first, 
Soothing the soul for solace athii'st, 
With melody deep and low, 
Flowing down from the choir above, 
Filling the heart with a world of love 
For our fellows here below; 

Louder and fuller, grandly it swells. 
With a sacred voice that to each one tells, 

A message of Heavenly warning, 
To lift now your hearts in prayer and thanksgiving 
To the Father of all, the dead and the living, — 

It may be too late in the morning. 

Yearningly ]>]aintive, beseechingly sweet. 
To cast yourselves at the Savior's feet. 

Again does the sweet voice implore; 
Free yourselves from the shackles of sin; 
Enter the pearly gates within 

Where waits the CTod you adore. 

Higher, still higher, the notes ascend. 
Up to the skies that above us bend, 

A prayerful petition for pardon; 
The Father bends with a list'ning ear. 
To catch His children's musical prayer. 

Wafted to the Heavenly Garden. 

Far and faint comes an anxious strain, 
Back to fair earth, and not in vain 

Has been our supplication. 
Low and soft as an angel's prayer. 
Comes to the penitent's eager ear 

Our Father's benediction. 

■ — Fannie M. O'JRourke. 



14 




DREAMS. 

OW our inem'ries love to linger 
'Round the scenes of long ago; 
How our thoughts will wander 
backward 
To the friends we used to know. 
And sometimes a thought comes stealing 

To a care-bewildered brain, 
That the past holds all the sweetness, 
And the present all the pain. 

How the lonely sad-eyed mother, 

Musing in the twilight hour, 
Of her dearly-loved and lost ones. 

Seems to live the bright days o'er. 
But those dreams of vanished pleasures 

Are at best but painful ones. 
For the present seems more dreary 

As each sad awakening comes. 

But I dream of joys awaiting — 

Of the resurrection morn — 
When those little moss-grown grave-mounds 

Shall give back each cherished form. 
We shall know our long lost darlings, 

When the light of glory beams 
On their half -forgotten faces — 

Ah I life knows no sweeter dream! 

— Libbie Sprague PJdllips. 



15 




TO MY LITTLE FRIEND. 

l'\)r ttioy {llu> aniMt'iil-i) s-iid iliiit the soul of m iii, I'mbodiod hen' oii oiirth. 
wont roainiiiK iii) niul down in quest of thai other world of its own. out of widi'h it 
eanie into tids, but was soon siuf>etled by the iiishx of the natural sun, and iinahle 
to see any otliofohjeets than those of this woi'ld, whieh aiv but sliadows of leiil 
tltinjrs."' 

" Essay on Love."— KKirrsoH. 

AIM tliinking, little Jarling, how long the months have 
been 
Since I've waited for a letter I'roin your little hltiuder- 
ing pen; 
But never mind, my darling, you love me just the same, 
Tho' from your little serawling hand nt) letter ever came. 

For oft I know your limbs are wearied by your wandering little 

feet 
For (Tod doth make you tired ])laying, so your resting may be 

sweet. 
His winds tear down the houses that the little hands have made 
And scatter briars o'er the paths where little feet have strayed. 

And little children work and work to fix tliem right again, 
And little trials come and come to vex the little brain. 
And little children hide their eyes and mourn and sob and weep, 
Till the Father sends an angel to put them fast asleep. 

But the Lord means not to vex you by these trials lie doth send, 
lie just tries the little children as lie tries the grown-up men: 
lie gives them very pretty things, and after they are given 
lie takes them all away from them, to make them think of 
Heaven. 

These good things that He sends us are but the shadows, love, 
Of the many brighter better things He's keeping up above; 
And when a shadow's with us, we don't care much, you know, 
What the far-oil" object is that does the shadow throw. 

But when the shadow creeps away and leaves us in the heat, 
We'll seek until we tind the tiling that made the shadow sweet; 
And so (iod takes the shadow — the good things He has given — 
And in searching out what made theiti, we tind the way to 
Heaven. 

— Mattie L. Adams. 



16 



STRANDED, 




Kill ii|> tliL' bejicli the wiives have I'orced llie 
hulk; 
The keel sinks l)el])leHs in tlie cliiio:;ing suiid; 
'i'he straining timbers warp, and gape, and rot. 

Until the wooden ribs half-naked stand, 
Save where fantastic wreatlis the sea weeds twine; 

And slitny snails crawl up the slimy ))lanks, 
And miniature lagoons within are formed 

In tiny basins, walled 1)y sandy banks. 
Tile Howingtide bounds lightly from the keel, 

And spurning, tosses flecks of snowy foam, 
As tho' to taunt, -"How hast thou failed, proud shij*, 

Stranded — a ho])eless wreck far, far from home!'' 
And yet, methinks she seems like some brave soul, 

Who starts upon life's voyage — all sails unfurled 
And pennons flying — in a fav'riug breeze. 

With sunshine flooding all the happy world; 
And bearing precious freight for lands unseen, 

And manned by noble motives, intents high; - 
Yet scarce the harbor buoy is safely passed. 

When sullen clouds low-gather in the sky. 
And rising winds do sough, and shriek, and moan. 

And toss the angry waters to and fro. 
And buffet the brave bark, until at last 

Her gay flags stripped, her canvas lying low, 
Her precious freight broad-cast upon the waves — 

She drifts, a helpless wreck, on some lee-shore, 
To lie, and rot — useless, forgot, despised — 

And yet, the crew is saved I They, and no more. 

—Helen T. (J In, rr I, ill. 



17 



SOUVENIRS. 

HERE comes at times a mist of doiil)t 
Betwixt us and the things that 
were; 

Memory brings all her treasures out, — 
We look with faithless eyes at her. 
The faces we have known, in vain 

She paints — makes music in our ears 
With voices and with words that paiu 
Us, since they will not come again; 

Like day dreams seem the vanished years. 

And then we long to quicken faitli 

By sense of things material; — 
The air of some fresh morn to breathe 

Which may the distant hour recall; 
What absent ones have touched, to hold; 

To read some burning words they wrote. 
And, following their footsteps bold, 
To find some mark upon the cold 

Hard rocks of life by them cut out. 

-- EJixiiletli 1' Sturttrant. 



18 




LOVED ONE. 

0]SIGHT my thoughts are all of thee, 
Thou dearest, loveliest of the fair; 
Thy sweet, bright eyes I seem to see 

As joyous as the angels are. 
Thy low-toued voice falls on my ear 

Like music dreams upon the heart; 
But thinking that thou art not near, 

I cannot help the tears that start. 
The soft, dark hair around thy brow, 

Would I could garland it tonight 
With fragrant flowers, breathing a vow 

To make thy future dear and bright! 
Would I could once more hear thee speak, 

And fondly clasp thy little hand, 
And see the light blush on thy cheek! — 

One moment thus to by thee sland 
Were worth more than the I'arest gem 
That ever blazed in diadem! 

— Oliver Perry Manlove. 



19 




NIGHT VOICES. 

IIEN tlic Angels of Night their shade nnfohl 
To wra]) this land in gloom, 
And J sit before the fire-light glow, 
Alone in my quiet room, 
I look with Memory's eager eyes 

In a face so dear to me, 
'I'ill my heart seems crushed with its weiglit of woe, 
And for tears I cannot see. 

I look at the shadows ui)on the wall, 

That dear face there I see, 
Au(\ out from the dying firelight's glow 

I^right eyes look back at me; 
And out from night's solemn stillness 

I hear that voice again; 
It carries me l)ack to days long past, 

Forgetting the present pain. 

J)ut the Past forever has vanished, 

There is only the Present now; 
But, ohi for one hour of the passed tiniel 

It would brighten the days as they go. 
But <T()d in infinite wisdom 

lias made them but sad, sweet years. 
And lie bids me look to the Future 

"^^riiat knows no time of tears. 



) V/'.ser/' .1. Ehuiit 



20 




ANGEL MUSIC. 

HEN the twilight had gathered around me, 
And tlie curtain of night hid the day, 
I heard the sweet music of angels 



From over the hills far away; 
U'heu came a procession a-marching, 

And plainly there came to my view 
The soldiers, with fife and drum jdaying, 

All clad in the bright army blue. 

The long lines k(']>t Hling ])ast me, 

While the national emblem waved liigh. 
And }»lainly I heard the grand anthem, 

So quiet and still I did lie. 
'Twas a scene that I long shall reuHnnber; 

Forgotten it never will be, 
For my own soldier-brother 1 saw 

In the vision the night brought to me. 

While I listened and waited to catch 

Every sound from that immortal band, 
The curtain of night seemed to lise, 

And I saw the bright summei" laud. 
Oh, glory celestial! (Jh, raptures divine! 

I cannot describe it: No poor words of mine 
Can portray unto you the beauties there, 

The immortal joys the soldier boys share! 

— Ili'len I\('ln( 11 /•'(). 



21 



A DREAM. 




TROUBLING shadow creeps o'er me today; I cannot 
say 
What makes this coldness at my heart, my own, 
But that last night I dreamed that you were dead, and did so 
dread 
Your lying out thei'e in the dark alone. 

The wind wailed loud and low and loud again, the dropping 
rain 
Kept u[» its beating, maddening monotone; 
Through sodden leaves and low, wet vines I crept, Avhile 
others slept. 
And found your grave: you were not then alone. 

You press warm, trembling lii)S to mine and say 'tis passed 
away, 

The dream which gave to-day a grayer tone; 
But, love, the visions of what might be bide, for had you died. 

Then I, as well as you, were all alone I 

— Maude De Ycre Krale. 



22 



PHANTOM FACES. 

HEY come and go, dear faces, 
Bright with joy and glee; 
Or dim with tears, or sad with grief 



They quiver mournfully; 
They glow within the lire's heart, 

They glance upon the wall; 
Amid my dreams they stand or start. 

When T ne'er bid nor call. 

I see them when I'm sad and lone: 

They bid me be of cheer; 
Or when I'm longing for my own, 

They tell me they are near. 
Fair friends of mine, sweet memory's gift, 

Dear "phantoms of delight," 
At lagging midnight, day hours swift. 

You are welcome to my sight. 

--Amanda 31. E. Booth. 



2.3 




MEMORIAL MUSINGS. 

HE lioines that have lost them l)est kuow of the 
sliadows 
That rest on the household when dear ones 
depart, — 
The gloom and the sadness, the pain and the anguish, 
The withering tear drops unbidden that start. 

How heavy the heart as we look at the loved one, 
When lilies are lying u}»on the cold cheek, 

When clasp we the hand that returns not our greeting. 
And press the pale lip that refuses to speak I 

The songs of the morning will fail to awaken 

The ear that is cold and the heart that is still; 

The words of the kindred are spoken unheeded, 

And naught that's of earth can the pulses e'er thrill. 

AlasI on our pathway is Death with his saber! 

Each year as we gather to sing in our halls 
We miss from our number some voice that enchanted, 

And sigh for the dear one that memory calls. 

Our music is that of the swan by the river. 

The song of the wild-bird that sings ere it dies. 

The voice of the spring-time that's gone ere the summer. 
The song of the /ejdiyr tliat sings as it flies. 

The voice that now sj)eaks of the dear, the de})arted, 
P]re long shall be hushed in the stillness of night. 

When life's star has sunk 'neath the western horizon, 
And gates of the evening have shut out the light. 

Ah! soon shall I launch upon Death's dreary ocean I 
But hope shall illumine my bark o'er the tide — 

The fond hope of meeting the forms that are waiting 
And watching my bark from the heavenly side. 

— ^Y. Sjtrfiir/er Yi>n7}<j. 
24 




ONE KISS. 

SIT ill tears and trouLle, 

My weary head bowed low; 
This life seems not worth living — 
How can some love it so? 
So dark and sad and dreary, 
'Tis sorrowful to know! 

But suddenly 1 lift my face, 

I see a ray of light; 
The cheery sun comes to dispel, 

From my weighed soul, the night: 
It is my dear one that comes in. 

Who is my life's delight. 

OhI how could I, e'en for a while, 

Have been discouraged, having you? 

She merely looks into my eyes, 

And, looking quite as angels do, 

Presses a kiss upon my lips, 

That gives me ho|)e and faith anew. 

Such loving lips to have and own, 

Are quite enough to make one brave; 

One soul to work for is enough 

To make one happy, hope to save; — 

While I have her to smooth my way. 
On earth I'm king, instead of slave I 

OhI all that love another soul, 

Be careful that you never miss 
To give with heart and soul and lips, 

When they have lost both hope and bliss- 
To save them danger and despair — 

One passion-laden, tender kiss I 

--Matihk 31. Amies. 




OUR CRICKETS. 

XLY the chirp of a cricket 

In the dewy grass by tlie way, 
As I pass through a garden wicket 
At the close of a summer day. 

Simply a cricket's shrill chime, 

J^ut it carries my soul afar 
To the eve of yon halcyon time, 

To the rise of my loving star, — 

When, as Jennie and I were walking 

In a shaded glade by the way, 
The crickets kept noisily mocking, 

At the close of that summer's day. 

And the right of a lover usurping. 

With loving, innocent mirth, 
I told her I dreamed of their chirping 

Ere long round our own loved hearth. 

That dream of my life was granted. 

As dreams shall not always be. 
And the crickets have merrily ranted 

For sweet little Jennie and me. 

Now in foreign lands as I wander. 

Far away from ray own hearthstone, 
A cricket is chirping reminder 

Of Jennie, my wife, and my home. 

— Col. James de Baun. 



2(5 



A STRUGGLE. 




HE waves are dashing wildly 

'Gainst a light-house old and bare, 
A man with the waves is battlino- — 



I lark I His voice rings out on the air: 

"Help!" he is frantically calling — 

But alas! none are there to hearl 
He sinks 'neath the angry billows 

Because of no listening ear. 

The water flows quickly o'er him; 
He is lost to all eyes but One: 
The God who watches above him 

Sees all and says, "Well done." 

So, when the waves of sorrow 

Seem closing o'er my head, 
And I battle wildly with them 

And feel that my heart is dead, 

I pause and think a moment; — 

Xo struggle is wholly lost; 
The soul is made far stronger 

rhan it were if not tempest tossed; 

Though we sink beneath the w\ater, 

God knows and sees it all; 
He gathers His faltering one to Him 

Thus answering his faint, weak call. 

— Marie CJianiberlahi . 



LONGING. 




\R, far away, to golden shores, 
Where angel harps are ring- 
ing; 

Where heavenly light 
Has banished night. 
My soul tonight is winging. 

Above the meaner things of earth, 
Above the sin and sorrow, 

Its troubles o'er, 

My soul would soar 
Into a glad tomorrow. 

Earth's vanities shall pass away — 
Her glories are but mortal — 

But joys secure 

For aye endure 
Beyond that heavenly portal. 

No bitterness shall enter there. 
Nor evil word be spoken; 

No sin nor pain 

Nor woe remain. 
Nor trusting heart be broken. 

The angels strike their harps of gold. 
To tell the joyful story; 

Then on, my soul, 

To reach the goal 
That crowns thy life with glory I 

— EiuiJij Ifousonan ItYafsoi). 



28 




TWILIGHT CHIMES. 

HEY sat iu silence on the shore, 
The twilight died away, 
The evening star came out once more 
And twinkled through the gray; 
He took her trembling hand in his — 
She thought the pressure kind — 
He raised it gently to his lips 

And said, "Wilt thou he mine?" 

She uttered low one little word, 

It fell upon his ear; 
It was enough, 'twas all he heard 

And all he wished to hear; 
The evening- star behind a cloud 

A happy smile concealed; — 
What more was said, what more was done, 

Has never been revealed. 

Save this, not many weeks had sped 

From that eventful night, 
P]re Hymen to the altar led 

A happy bride and bright; 
The same was she who silent sat 

Till twilight ilied away. 
Until the evening star came out 

And twinkled through the gray. 



M)'s. L. F. Angney. 



29 



HOMEWARD BOUND. 



HE way is loug, my dear one, 
The path is rough and 
steep, 
And swift across the darkening skv 

I see the shadows creep; 
But Oh I my love, my darling, 
No harm to us can come, 
No evil turn us from our path, 
For we are o'oitis home! 



Your feet are weary, darling. 

So tired the tender feet; 
But think, when we are there at last, 

We've earned the rest so sweet I 
For look I the lights are gleaming, 

And yonder silver dome. 
Before us shining like a star, 

Shall guide us safely home. 

The night grows chill, my darling. 

The mountain-side is steep. 
And fast across the dark'ning sky 

The twilight shadows creep; 
But, love, we'll still press onward 

Whenever trials come. 
For in the way the Father knows. 

We two are ofoino- home I 



Dora Jiose Ware. 



30 




THE PAST. 

« HEN memory, like a mighty spell, 
Sweeps o'er the drooping soul 
With withering agonies that 
quell 
The spirit's stern control; 

When, like the lightning's lurid light, 
It rends the veil of buried years, 

And brings before the aching sight 

Hope's blackened wreath of tears; — 

'Tis then we feel how dark and drear 
Earth's brightest beauties given; 

'Tis then we feel that hopes most dear 
Are soonest to be riven; 

'Tis then we feel how, one by one, 

Like summer rays of burning light. 

Have vanished from youth's horizon 

The joys we deemed were ever bright. 

And yet must memory ever dwell 

On scenes, on years, forever past? 

Oh, who could dream a fitter hell 
For demon souls e'er cast? 



-Ed. We}t(>rort/i. 



31 




A DAY'S OUTING IN JUNE. 

lOAV sweet to sit beneath the trees 
lu the silent country, pure and 
s'\A'eet I 
To hear the murmur of the breeze, 

And feel its breath upon thy cheek I 

Full lovingly the balmy air « 

Wraps thee in its soft embrace. 
And with a radiance so fair 

The sunlight beams u]»on thy face. 

Ah! sweet indeed it is to rest 

Far from the city's noise aud bustle; 

To sit beneath these grand old trees, 

And hear their soft and gentle rustle. 

Dear Nature, mother of our race, 

Many phases canst thou assume, — 

The storm that ravages and wastes. 

Grand Thunder with his awful boom. 

.Vud then, these gentle breezes rare. 

How innocent they seem to me I 
Bright Nature, thus thou art a child, 

And like one pi ay est sportively. 

— Clara C. E. Kennedy. 



32 



STANZAS. 

HERE blows not a 
flower 
In meadow or lea 
That has not the power 

To whisper of thee; 
The purl of the river 

In melody frames, 
Forever aud ever, 

Thy sweetest of names. 

To-niffht I am dreaminsf; 

Stars gladden the skies; 
I see not their gleaming, 

But only thine eyes. 
Thus ever communion 

With nature I share; 
And all things iu union 

Proclaim thou art fair. 

The dew-drop, adorning 

The blossoms of May, 
Lives but for a morning, 

Then fadeth away; 
Yet still in my bosom 

Remembrance shall give 
Thine image to blossom 

Forever and live. 



— Willimn J. Price. 



33 




A WESTERN WOOING. 

\\K sun is low; eve's dusky glow 
Falls o'er the rolling prairie; 
Dame Nature seems to sink in 
dreams 
'Neath spell of twilight fairy. 

On straying feet, thro' grasses sweet, 
A man and maiden wander; 

All silent she, it seemeth he 

O'er some fond hope doth ponder. 

At length he speaks. In girlish cheeks 
Red ros(; and white do vary; 

She says him nay, she turns away, — 
Some maids are sore contrary. 

But he is bold — an answer cold 

Ne'er chilled a West'ner's heart — 

lie whispers low, "Love, 'tis not so; 
We twain ne'er met to ])artl 

"I'll kiss you, clear, — yes, without fear — 
For sure there'd be no chiding 

Fi-om lips so red, the rose in dicad 
Her jealous head is hiding? 

"And, <larling, you will tell me true 
That you'll be mine forever':'" 

A whispered "yes" doth soft confess 
Ijove's union naught can sever. 

In close embrace, with tardy pace, 
Two lovers homeward wander; 

All silent she, it si^emeth he 

On some fond fact doth ])onder. 



-Stella. Jjtidle Oilman. 



34 



ANGEL WAYS AND SUMMER 
DAYS. 




IIKRE'S laughter iu the sumtncr 
brook, 
And ill the summer skies; 
"Sly Love has caught their mystic look — 

I saw it in her eyes. 
I heard tlie runlet's happy sound, 

This morning, in her mirth; 
There must have been an angel 'round, 
To dower her at birth. 



The dainty sliade which decks the rose. 

Is shamed by her sweet face; 
And stately though the lily grows, 

'Tis not so full of grace. 
Across the meadow wet with dew, 

The filmy webs are spun; 
Her golden fleece has brighter hue, 

Cautjht from the ardent sun. 



— Clara II. Holmes. 



3o 



DAWN. 




y Love and I, at dawn of day, 

Watched all the east sky turn from gray 
Into the shades of red and gold ; 

We watched the new-born maid unfold 

Her arms unto her lover, old; 

We saw the clouds come down to hold 

The glistening peaks so white and cold; 

We saw the night at sight of sun 

Gather her lanterns one by one, 

Then calling darkness from its play. 

She clasped it close, and Hew away. 

— Ruth Ward Kahn. 



aC) 




OVER A TWILIGHT SEA. 

N laggard wiugs above us the tired birds revolve; 
All luminous the ripples with diamonds that dissolve; 
How beautiful to fling them in the water all ashake; 
Could you and T but string them what a rainbow chain they'd 
make! 

The lily buds are swaying on the margin of the deep; 
The silver minnows playing when they ought to be asleep; 
The restless leaves have cuddled down: a zephyr from the hill 
Has softly sung "Good night! good night!" and bade them all 
lie still. 

A lullaby the wavelets tell, with lightly laughing li})s; 
Our boat is but a pearly shell that gently o'er them slips; 
On rounded arms they lift it, and link their pallid hands 
As dreamily they drift it to happy slee))y lands. 

From out the deepening shadows there creeps a shining strand. 
The air is soft as velvet as we near the phantom land. 
And songs of dreamland angels blend in peaceful harmony. 
Greeting weary little pilgrims borne across the twilight sea. 

— Ida Winsliip Rand. 



37 




A MIDNIGHT VISITANT. 

S I sought my midnight couch, 

Ere Slumber's spell had bound me, 
P^re the draperies of my dreams, 
Fell like mist around me, — 

From my chamber door there came 

Softest rappings on my ear, 
Oft repeated tappings they, 

Most distinctly could I hear; 

And I knew it was no raven, 

That was waiting there without, 
For 'tis they of softer plumage 

That e'er throng my home about. 

Quick I rose and gave it entrance; 

When its mild eyes sought my face, 
They, which e'er my sorrow banish. 

And Care's landmarks all efface. 

It of mien most mild pursued me. 

And my downy pillow pressed; 
Perched beside my throbbing temples, 

Sweetly crooned me off to rest. 

On my cheek faint airs vibrated, 

With its soft recurring breath; 
As it nestled close beside me, 

I little dreamed it S])ake of death. 

But when earth once more awakened. 

In my couch I was alone, 
For Death's linger'd touched my treasure, 

And my gentle one had tlown. 

— Ada JVeneta Hidings. 
88 




NIGHT. 

SAW the tyrant Might 
His long arms tiing about the neck of Day, 
Then pounce on her as if she were his prey 
And drag her to his closet, dark and drear, 
Like some bold giant, strong, devoid of fear. 
I heard him shut the tall and massive door, 
I heard him turn the massive key — and morel 
Tier upon tier of dark I saw him pile 
From sleepy earth to blue and boundless sky. 
As if to build some mammoth barrier high; 
While knaves and fiends along the road did i)ile, 
Unwatched save by the moon and stars. 
I saw him nudge the group of drowsy trees 
Which stood like sluggards sly, a-stealing ease; 
I heard him bid them bend and fan the air. 
That peasants worn by tedious woi'k and care 
Might sleep like babes all through his ugly reign. 
Unmindful of their busy lives and gain. 
Then soon a noisy gust regaled the earth; 
The slaves of Night, from tree to fragile reed, 
As if to mock Day's death, as Night decreed, 
A moment shook their giddy heads with mirth. 
Then all was calm, more tranquil than before. 

— James H. Borland. 



39 




THE STREAM OF LIFE. 

iJOWN in the flower-clad meadow, 

Where the river runs deep 
and wide, 
I watched the leaves and branches 
Float away on the restless tide. 

They rose on a crested billow, 

Then sank in an eddy's whirl; 
Rose again to the surface, 

To be lost in the ocean's swirl. 

I thought, how like our life-boats 

As we sail down life's flowing stream, 

Are these leaves so black and withered, 
Floating out from a sunny gleam; 

Gliding into the shadows. 

Behind curtains of darksome night, 
Until some unseen spirit 

Guides them into the light. 

From Pleasure's placid bosom 

We are drawn through the maelstrom's 
door : 
Forever sinking and rising; 

We float toward the Unknown Shore. 

And many whose barques are sightly. 
As they sail away from the strand, 

Will fail to ride the billows. 

And be wrecked in sight of land. 

Others, with boats un gilded, 

'Gainst fierce billows hard to breast, 

Safe through the shoals and breakers. 
Will glide to the Haven of Rest. 

— Myra C. K. Shuey. 
40 




ART SUBJUGATED. 

HAT was't thou sang to me 
As 1 against thy knee 
Leaned, on the sandy beach 
Just out of ocean's reach? 

Neptune's accompaniment 
A strange enchantment lent 
To that most beauteous sound, 
Thy voice, so rich and round. 

Weird but bewitching hour. 
Voice with its swaying power; 
No need of lyre nor harp, 
No need of critic sharp. 

Thine was an artist's name 
Already known to fame. 
Yet in thee none could see 
Aught but simplicity. 

T, there in humble joy 
Scarce breathed, lest sigh annoy 
Thy dreamy tunesome mood 
Gently by muses wooed. 

Sing'st thou not thus alway. 
Never did audience gay 
Hear just such tones, a part 
Of thy sweet soul, not art! 
Or art quite subjugated 
By nature, soul related. 



A. IT. Ewing. 



41 



AU CLAIR DE LA LUNE. 



HE nightingale at even 
Calls, "Marie!" 
The flowers gaze toward 

Heaven 
And see thee; 
Yet the birds in leafy bowers 
And the fairest of the flowers 
Never knew a love like ours, — 
Nor do we. 



Whenever we are parted, 

Earth and sky 
Mourn with me, broken-hearted, 

Fain to sigh; 
While the trees, by breezes shaken, 
All the woodland echoes waken, 
And they sob as though forsaken, --- 

As do I. 

Then glance from out your cover! 

Give some sign 
Of greeting to the lover 

Who is thine! 
For the moonlit hours are fleeting. 
And his heart is wildly beating 
And implores an early meeting, 

Marie mine! 

— Alex. H. Laidlan', Jr. 



42 



AN EVENING IN JULY. 




OW slowly pass the heavy hours of heat, 

Blown soft away by gentle evening breeze, 
Which stirs the branches on the slumberous trees 
And wakens them with whispers low and sweet, 
Till o'er the road-ways broad they bend and meet. 
Soon from my wearied limbs all languor flees. 
As in the deepening shade I lie at ease 
And watch the fire-flies flashing o'er the wheat; 
I fancy these are little flitting stars 

Which, wandering toward the earth, have lost their way, 
And now illume the fields with misty light 
So like that light above, where stately Mars 

Is watching o'er them; and the passing day 
Glides dreamily into the starry night. 

— Adela Allen. 



43 




THE OCEAN RIVER. 

a HENCE comes tby power, O restless sea? 

Whence thy magic spell, O rolling deep? 
That thou waftest man o'er thy boundless lea, 
And, child-like, he wonders where wonders sleep? 

Is there under your protecting care 

Some oft-searched-for truth entwined? 

Or what marvels are slumbering there. 

To baffle, yet nourish, the noble mind? 

In the Atlantic, deep from the day and night. 

Though distanced still from its darkness below, 

A river, unruffled by the billows' fight. 

Sweeps onward in one grand, ceaseless flow. 

No plant life adorns this beautiful stream. 
No boatman e'er chained its lofty crest. 

Its basin echoes no shrill forest scream. 

No fisherman e'er heaved its peaceful breast. 

— Francis E. Barieau. 



44 



UNDER THE SNOW. 




NDER the snow all the flowers are sleeping, 
Sweet, tiny faces that we love so well; 
Under their downy, white robe they are creeping, 
What are they dreaming? Ah, we cannot tell. 
Only we know that when glad springtime opens, 

Forth from their hiding-place gaily they'll come: 
The air will be tilled with the fragrance of flowers. 
Then none will be missing, — no, not even one. 

They all will come back to the green earth above them, 

Sweet blue-eyed forget-me-nots, true lover's flower; 
And wee modest violets, hiding their faces;^ — 

Some fresh dainty blossom will open each hour. 
Daisies and buttercups, tall stately lilies, 

Pale yellow cowslips, and all we love best ; 
Seeming more fragrant, more lovely than ever, 

Since under the snow they have taken a rest. 

— Ijottie F. Chattertov 



45 




THEN AND NOW. 

NDER the pine trees, long ago, 
We lingered, you and I, 
Hearing birds carols soft and 
low, 
Watching the sunset die. 

Ah, we were happy — happy, dear. 
Wandering thi'ough the glen: 

Never a cloud in life to fear — 

For we were sweethearts then. 

Under the same old pines today 
With aching heart I stand. 

Watching the gentle zephyrs play 
Over the sun-kissed land. 

Love's dream is o'er — I must forget 

The heedless, broken vow. 
Though mv heart break — show no regret. 

For we are strangers now. 



Florence D. Yambert. 



46 



THE PASSING KING. 




THE soughing and the sighing 
Of the gray ohi year a-dying; 

O the wailing and the weeping and the 
tears I 
O the agony and groaning, 
And the melancholy moaning, 

As he writhes amid his memories and fears. 

Where, O monarch, sad and dreary, 
Of thy ways and works a -weary, — 

Where the courtiers and fi-iends of other days? 
Why thy palace halls deserted? 
Why attention all averted? 

Why no voice to raise for thee the song of praise? 

Ah, behold the bright arising, 
In his radiance all baptizing, 

Of a new-born king to sit upon thy throne! 
On his form thy mantle's falling. 
He shall hear the nations calling. 

And no more thy regal power shall they own. 

Pass out gently, worn and olden; 
Enter gladly, new and golden; 

Take the scepter, sway the empire of the world. 
With the old we part in sadness. 
But the new we greet in gladness. 

And hail his beauteous banner bright unfurled! 

— Aaron Prince Aten. 



47 




THE MASTERPIECE. 

|E sat within his uook of flowers, 
ITnmindful of the fleeting hours 
Unmindful of the eager throng 
Who listened, spelll)ound, to the song. 

No written notes his eyes befell, — 
No discord note to break the spell; 
The music rose, vibrating, grand, 
The violin breathed in his hand. 

The soft sweet strain, entrancing, full. 
Revealed the language of his soul: 
It spoke of scenes of other days, 
Of long-gone dreams, of tuneful lays. 

It sang the song-life of a bird, 
Of unseen flowers by zephyrs stirred. 
Of sunshine, beauty — youth's desire, — 
Then led to Love's expressive Are. 

The strain rose vibrant, high and shrill, 
Then fell and quivered, low and still. 
It spoke of hopes crushed — severed — gone; 
The dirge-like knell ebbed sadly on. 

Then wavering life began anew, — 
Some distant star almost in view; 
Aspiring tones rose higher yet — 
A thorny path with roses set. 

The star ahead now brighter gleamed, — 
That mystic light — so near it seemed; — 
The note was touched, — he raised bis head. 
It was too sweet — the man was dead! 

— Atiabel Wilson JVaterman. 
48 




CHRISTMAS MORNING. 

NCE again the cold December 

Stilled the earth with icy hand, 
And a glorious Christmas morning 
Dawned on an enchanted land. 

All night long the tiutteriug snowflakes 

Wrapped onr cold bare earth in white. 

Hooded every rugged summit, 

Hid the frozen turf from sight. 

All the glad earth glowed with beauty^ — 
Christ was born on Christmas day — 

And they laid him in a manger, 

'Mid the scent of sweetest hay. 

On this glorious Christmas morning 

All a happy greeting send, 
And the bells chime out a welcome : 

"Peace on earth, good will toward men ! " 

— Mabel J/. Myers. 



49 






THE MESSENGER. 

N quiet peaceful slumber 

I lay, one calm still night, 
When out from space and 



darkness 
There came a form of light. 

It poised in air before me. 

And breathed a plaintive strain; 
Its harp still wet with niglit dew 

From having crossed the main. 

The deep dark sea of silence 

Between us holding sway, 
While swelling waves of memory 

Bear lonely thoughts away. 

I spoke and said: "What are you, 

oo like an ethereal dove V " 
It turned, and slowly moving 

Unfurled its wings of love. 

But ere it rose to leave me, 

By light from a snow-white Hame, 

I saw in golden love links 
A\"as woven your dear name. 

— Mrs. S. 31 Strickhr 



50 




PRINCE, KING, OR QUEEN? 

fWILIGIIT, the Prince, is advancing, 
The van-guard of silent Night, 
Touching and lightly enhancing 

Fair Nature, ere lost to our sight; 
While gazing in vs^ide admiration 

The tints of the colors glow, 
Fading in other relation. 

Yet shining their beauty to show. 
Then Night, garbed as a Black King, 

Enshrouds Earth at command, 
A ruler of all — with Darkness, 

But fails in upholding his stand, 
For Luna Divine, with a red robe of plush. 

Smiling triumjthantly, rolls 
With majesty up the deep heavens black, 

And reigns till she reaches the goals. 
And her cloak all bebloodied with crimson — a 
stain 

From visits to far Southern climes, 
Is cleansed by the dew in its falling so soft. 

Till golden in beauty she shines. 
Twilight, the Prince, has departed, 

Su) (planting it came King of Night, 
Then Luna, the fair Queen of Beauty, 

Dethrones King and rules him with Light. 

— (j. l-Jrvt'ii Hemeo)i. 



51 




TO AN ANT. 

IFE'S myst'ry dwells as much in thee, 
As in the higher life of me; 
The spark divine we cannot make 
Why should I from thy body take ? 

I turn my footsteps from thy way; 

To labor go, or to thy play. 

Go build thy towns and found thy state — 

E'en in thee — mite — sits mind elate. 

Thrift for the morrow marks thy life, 
Which has its joys as well as strife. 
Delight, distress, and right aud wroug, 
To thee and me alike belong. 

In order all thy nrmies fight, 

Fierce battles rage 'twixt mite and mitr; 

The fairy tread of maiden fair 

Is a di'ead cyclone in thy air, 

Crushing thy cities and thy homes. 
As gently o'er the lea she roams. 
Our lives expansions are of yours. 
Thy fate the miniature of ours. 

From the same source we emanate. 
He makes the lesser and the great; 
Again, then, go, unharmed by me, 
With life's best blessing — liberty. 

— Alice I). &Jd2:)man. 



52 



THE LIGHTHOUSE. 




PON a pi'omoutory bold 

The stately lighthouse stands, 
And sheds its rays across the sea 
For ships from many lands; 
When Darkness broods upon the deep 

How needful is its light, 
To help the wave-toss'd mariner 
To steer his conrse aright. 

God grant that we our light let shine 

For sailors on Life's wave; 
When night of sin broods o'er their sea 

Let's help the lost to save; 
The light of love flash brightly forth 

For all afar that roam, 
And some will see its kindly glow 

And steer their barque for borne. 

— Richard Baircl. 



53 




WAR SONG. 

HE war drums are throbbing again; 
The trumpet is sounding to arms; 
O'er mountain and valley and plain, 
Peal the echoes of war's dread alarms. 

Unfurled is the banner of Freedom, 
Proud symbol of Justice and Right, 

Through its folds waving high on the ramparts 
Streams the splendor of Liberty's light. 

From the prow of the serried armada 
Riding proudly o'er summer-kissed seas, 

The star-spangled banner is waving 
Old Glory unfurled to the breeze. 

The cannon of freemen but thundered 
Defiance t' oppression and wrong, 

And lo! in the East and Antilles, 
Bursts the music of Liberty's song. 

On the foam-crested billows of ocean. 
Up the blood stained hills of San Juan, 

Our heroes with courage ne'er faltering 
Have followed our proud talisman. 



The drum-beat is hushed I the conflict is o'er, 
No camp-fires are lighting the welkin dome. 

But the blood of the brave, across the blue 
wave. 
Has builded for Freedom a home. 



Willidrn. Ij<iv\ 




BLASTED. 

]H pine tree, lightning blasted, 
Thou lendest to the gloom 
One half of its enchantment, 
As the pale rising moon 
Throws wan light o'er thy branches, 

Where, hiding their decay. 
Hang long fantastic lichens, 
Now gleaming silver gray. 

Oh pine tree, lightning blasted. 

The south wind soughing plays 
A requiem through thy splinters, 

Lit by the moon's pale rays. 
I hear its gentle whisper, 

Low breathing in mine ear, 
"Thy heart is like this pine tree, 

Thy life is dead and sere." 



— »?. L. AlHson. 




CHANGES OF EARTH. 

S I sit in my quiet home to-day 

And look out on the cloudless sky, 
Then note the freshness and beauty of earth, 
I marvel this l^eauty should die ; 
The green leaf must wither, the bright flower fade, 

The sweetness of youth flee away ; 
And friends that we love — ah, saddest to think — 
They, too, may be gone with the day. 

In fancy I see that bright home beyond — 

Above all we have pictured fair ; 
The grandest of scenes and dearest of joys 

Seem to meet with uo changes there. 
And I fain would sail o'er the mystic sea 

That leads to that summer land, 
To look on a face I have loved aud lost, 

And touch with my own a dear hand. 

Often it is, when the changes that come 

Bring us crosses full hard to bear, 
We try to escape, and fret 'neath the yoke 

God has fitted for us to wear. 
Each trial we pass makes brighter the way, 

And each to our crown adds a star ; 
Then murmur not at the changes of earth, 

Look beyond — the gates are ajar. 

— Sue T). Gardner. 



56 




WOMAN'S HEART. 

|AST back on itself, broken and torn, 

Slain by the man she had learned to 
love; 
Patient and cheerful, no one knew. 

But she who bore it, and God above. 
For her stalwart brothers, brave and kind. 

Would avenge with his blood the wrong he did; 
And they scan her features for one faint trace, 
Of the sorrow she has so skilfully hid. 

But alone she lays aside the mask 

That through love for him she wears, 
And kneeling down at her Saviour's feet, 

Pours her soul in earnest prayers. 
"Forgive him. Lord, tho' he has sinned; 

Forgive and lead him to better ways." 
And like a balm on her grieving heart. 

His healing hand He gently lays. 

And she rises up to the duties of life. 

Resigned and cheerful resumes her way; 
And the anxious brothers, gaze at her, 

"'Twas all a mistake," they gladly say. 
Little they know how within her heart, 

She grieves for the love she cannot gain. 
And that when she and her grief are alone 

Her heart is full of bitter pain. 

— Fannie Eastu-ood. 



57 




THE PICTURE. 

NEVKTi was called an art critic, 

l>ut last night I looked into the west 
Where an artist was painting a picture, 



icyond tlie hills' verdant crest. 



My heart was filled with sweet longing, 

My soul tlnilled with rapture suhlinie, 

At the sight of that glorious picture, 
And ihouglits of the artist divine. 

There were I'ivers and valleys and mountains. 
And a sky full of glories untold, 

All ahlaze with crimson and azure 

And tinged with the finest of gold. 

Tlie picture, I know, was the fairest 

Ever seen by a mortal eye : 
For God himself was the artist, 

And the canvas the evening sky. 

— Adclie V. Kelley. 



58 




NATURE'S MUTATIONS. 

\NY a time, from the mountain's breast, 
I have watched the sun as it sank to rest; 
I have watched it sink in a misty hue, 
^^'itll the farewell glance to the mountains blue. 

I have watchf'd, from the mountain's granite side, 
The evening sliadows that softly glide 
From the prairie's edge, that distant lay, 
To the mountain summits, dark and gray. 

I have watched, through the murky atmosphere, 
The green of the prairies disappear; 
Or the clouds that over the forest glide 
To strike and i)art at the mountain's side. 

I have watched the rain in torrents fall 
And strike the live oak branches tall; 
I have looked across the yellow soral, 
Dwarfed by the red and purple laurel. 

I have seen the dim clouds settle down 
Upon the hill top bare and brown, 
The shower of pattering hail increase; 
Or scanned the rainbow in the east. 

— Leroy W. II. Ihirllug. 



.59 




IN THE CLOUDS. 

()W bright the clouds at twilight be! 
Like chariots I love to see, 
Swiftly flying, feathery white, 
Changes quick to red so bright. 

Clouds of gold and azure hue, — 
Oh, an artist I'd be, to do 
Each passing cloud iu its color true; 
Leaving in each a heavenly blue. 

Living iu clouds? Yes, joy untold. 
However friends may sneer and scoff; 
Beauty, music and flowers, the soul 
Mates with the love of clouds aloft. 

Could human hand paint yellow gold. 
In pictures so bright and fair and bold? 
Dainty tinted, folds there be, 
God's pictures in clouds for you and me. 

There, a storm cloud rises high and dark. 
Nature changes, though lovely still; 
Vivid lightnings flash and spark. 
Hear that crash! 'tis God's will. 

- — Mrs. Anitii Ij, T^7i^7e. 



(•)0 




OTHER YEARS. 

ENEATH the moon's pale glimmering light, 
With twilight stealing o'er me, 
Fond memory weaves the garlands bright 
Of other years before me: 
My boyhood years — the hopes and fears. 

The fond words idly spoken; 
Then memory veers to sighs and tears 
When trusting hearts had broken. 

In fancy scenes familiar, dear, 

With playmates of my childhood, 
In shadowy forms will oft appear; 

As seen when in the wildw^ood, 
When brooklets glide and violets hide, 

To blush and scatter sweetness. 
While spring days bide with haughty pride. 

Yet lend to joy completeness. 

There songsters perched in stately trees 

Melodious lays were singing. 
As branches swayed 'neath gentle breeze 

Toward trunks with ivy clinging. 
Thus comes the light in visions bright. 

With moonbeams gleaming 'round me; 
Till stilly night in silent flight 

To earlier loves has bound me. 

—A. A. Xorth. 



01 




THE MORNING GLORY. 

ilE sun gave a ray, The mist a spray, 
The wind wafted sweet perfumes; 
So in that hour Was born atlower, — 
The fairest of Nature's blooms. 
Of a lowly mind, It humbly twined 
Its tendrils round a tree; 

Its chalice of dew It raised to Aiew; 
And this reed it gave to me: 

"If my strength be weak, Then must I seek 
Fi-oni One who is Strength and Love. 
If of heavenly grace I have a trace. 

It all Cometh from above." 

How short its life, When the pruning knife 
Comes to lay this beauty low; 

It will bow its head. As if it said, 
''The Master calls — and I go." 

— Ombra. 



62 




EACH BRINGETH BLESSINGS. 

LL nature some new blessing brings each hour; 
The bud unfolding gives a perfect leaf, 
And then the beauty of the perfect flower, 
Then grain within the sheaf. 

The sun, revolving round his central way, 

Quick folds aside night's veil of woven mist; 

As he salutes with radiant smile the day 
Each blushing rose is kissed. 

Like natui-e, some leave blessings in their way. 
Their lives ennobled by their gracious deeds; 

Like golden clouds that seem to ope the way 
Where angel pathway leads. 

By graces undefined, by friendly mien, 

By gentle word, or noble thoughts expressed, 

A sweet refining influence they leave, — 
Thus other lives are blest. 

— Tjcda Gano Brovrne. 



63 




A DAY'S JOURNEY. 

P in the raorniug of life, 

While the earth is yet flushed with the dawning; 

( )[)'uing the work of the day 
In beginning the cares of existence. 
Fleet are the flying moments, 
Speeding along to the noontide, 
Hast'ning on in the journey, 
Beginning the labor of living. 
Feet that have walked in the meadows, 
The sweet paths of youth and of childhood, — 
Soon reach the mountains of manhood, — 
And wending with unfathomed perils 
Toilfully make the ascent 
To the rock-crowned ami fissure-rent samtuit. 
Brief is the pause on the heights 
Ere the path begins to tend downward; 
Quick the descent is, and easy. 
The sun keeping pace with the pilgrim. 
Darkening shadows foretell 
The evening and end of the journey. 
Worn with the toil of the day. 
The traveler wearily falters 
Seeking repose on the verge 
Of a tomb, as the sun, slowly sinking, 
Pea,^efully brings with the darkness, 
Rest, and the end of Life's journey. 

— Maud E. Dittos. 



64 




SAILING. 

AR out and away o'er the waters blue 
A tiny boat bears me and you 
This beautiful day in summer. 
And as we glide o'er the waters wide 
Borne swiftly on by wind and tide, 
Till we near the other strand, 
My thought goes out to the other land 
Towards which we all are sailing ; 
And a prayer goes up to the throne on high, 
That when the hour of death draws nigh 
We may launch our barque together, 
And on and away o'er the darkening tide 
We may glide together side by side 



Into the great hereafter. 



M. B. 



«)5 




ONE OF IOWA'S FORTY-NINTH. 

K went to war iu the moruiug ; 

The sound of the drum could be heard ; 
As he paused at the gate with his loved ones 
For a kiss and farewell word. 
"Don't worry for me," he said gayly, 

" I shall not be gone a great while ; " 
And the thought that his country had called him 
Illumined his face with a smile. 

He died of fever at morning ; 

At six, with the sound of the drum, 
Came the Death Angel softly, whispering : 

"The Father in Heaven calls, come ! " 
His comrades were gathered around him. 

Silent and tearful the while ; 
But the thought that he died for his country 

Illumined his face with a smile. 

They bore him back home in the evening; 

The drum call was muffled and low. 
He was wrapped in the folds of Old Glory : 

His last word had asked it so. 
Brave dead, sweetly sleep iu the churchyard, 

The thought of thy going the while. 
As well as thy coming at drum call, 

Still dwells with thy last sad smile ! 

— Lorena Osborn Hunt. 



(56 




BABY'S QUESTIONS. 

IK) brings the stars at night, mania?" 
My darling asked one day, 
"And wlio conies in the nioriiii)g time 
And takes tliem all away? 

"What makes the flowers ery, mama? 

Are they afraid in the night? 
Teardrops are on their faces 

Wlien the morning brings the liglit. 

"Who gave the little butterfly 

Such pretty painted wings? 
Who taught the birdie in the wood 

The sweetest song it sings? 

"Why can't we see the wind, mama? 

Who tells it wliere to go? 
What makes it whirl the dust about 

And bend the trees down low? 

"Who sends the day away, mama? 

And where does it go at night? 
Who l)i'ings it l)ack in tiie morning time 

And fills it so full of light? 

"Where do they keep the sihjw, mama? 

Who cuts it up so small? 
Why are the ))ieces so white, mama? 

Who is it makes it all?"" 

" 'Tis (iod, my child, does all these things 

In earth, and air and sky." 
"Then who made God?" she (juickly asked, — 

And waited for reply. 

— T. J>. Garretson. 



67 



WORSHIP OF AN IDEAL. 

HERE is no joy, but thou art parent to it ; 
No grief, but thou hast given to it form : 
Thy smile, thy frown, glad words and sad 
lamentings, 
Make up the substance of my daily bourn. 

The sun ne'er rose above the eastern tree tops, 
But that thy smile reflected there to me; 

Nor raindrops fell, but that I saw thee weeping, 
And the dark clouds I knew thy frown to be. 

At eventide, when the pale stars are twinkling, 
Each bears a message full of love to me ; 

While in the soft night winds I feel thy breathing ; 
And e'en fair Luna often speaks of thee. 

Thou'rt present near me always, waking, sleeping; 

Thro' day and night, pain, pleasure, in my heart 
Thou art supreme ; no impulse but thy making ; 

Thy doting subject, — my queen thou art. 

— Chas. C. Geduldig. 



68 




LITTLE MAUD. 

HOU'RT a vision fresh and bright, 
With thy fairy form so light, 
i^ And thy face so pure and white, 
Little Maude. 



Glorious curls of sunny hue. 
Coral li2:)S let glancing through 
Pearly teeth half hid from view, 
Little Maude. 

Eyes whose blue from heaven came; 
Cheeks whose color I could name 
Some bright flower might proudly claim, — 
Little Maude. 

Thou has stormed the citadel 
Of a heart that lovest well; 
]t has yielded to the spell. 

Little Maude. 

I am filled with a conceit. 
In thy love there's no deceit. 
Poured from lips so pure and sweet. 
Little Maude. 

— Maude Emett Cutler. 



69 




A WINTER MORNING SCENE. 

F.YOND the fields one morn 

My eyes beheld a vision: 
Above the earth, below tlie skies 
'T\v:i8 like the fields Elysian. 

The mellow light that shone upon 

The tree tops on that morning, 
With radiance lit the jeweled crown 

'J'heir leafiess boughs adorning. 

The mists of night had lingered there, 
And morning frosts were blending. 

Like pavonine upon the air. 

And rainbow hues out-sending. 

No saj)phire stone, nor ruby red 

In diamond crown of ])rincess. 
Is like the light that halo shed; 

Its equal naught evinces. 

There were ten thousand precious gems, 

Perhaps there were ten million; 
For these were more than diadems 

Above celestial sylvan. 

Beyond these scenes our thoughts may rise 

And catch some heavenly vision; 
Beyond the earth, beyond the skies, 

Beyond the fields Elysian. 

— Benjamin F. Canocle. 



70 




THE AMERICAN FLAG. 

HE flag that floats o'er freedom's heights, 
Though hated by a million foes, 
The monarch of all lesser lights. 
O'er whom its greater lustre throws, 
Will flutter on forever free 

When crumbling empires lie in dust; 
'Twas growing when the Charter Tree 
Encased the sacred scroll in trust. 

'Twas founded in the rights of man, 

When patriots, with pens of fire, 
Unawed by threats of foreign clan, 

Invoked the tones of Freedom's lyre. 
When the Independence Bell rang out 

In thunder tones, so loud and clear; 
Then Tyranny was put to rout, 

And Freedom gave a lusty cheer. 

Our states now numl)er forty-four. 

Our territories five; 
The waiting nation calls for more, 

Where sixty millions thrive. 
We hail with joy Columbian Fair; 

Our welcome guests from foreign shores 
A grand display find gathered there — 

The world out[)Ouring all her stores. 

Chorus: 

Oh, the flag, the dear old flag 

Is still forever growing; 
New stars are twinkling in its folds, 

O'er all their brightness throwing. 

— Mary Dale Culver Evans. 



THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 




IIAT means this eager, anxious throng, 
These eyes so wondrous bright? 
What brings us all,both old and young. 
About this tree tonight? 
'Tis love. And listen, you shall know 

Of Him that brought it all — 
The Babe Who, born in a manger low, 
Taught us the Father's call. 

Near nineteen hundred years ago. 

On old Judea's plain 
Were shepherds watching Hocks by night — 

The source of all their gain. 
When suddenly a star appeared, 

A new bright twinkling star, 
While to their listening ears were borne 

Sweet voices from afar, 

Singing, "Peace on earth, good will to men." 

And,- "Glory to God on high, 
For unto you a King is born, 

And He shall never die." 
The shepherds, then, were filled with awe. 

As onward moved the star, 
Until it led to Bethlehem 

The strangers from afar. 

And these and others fervent gazed. 

And worshipped Him as King. 
And now we, too, His followers, 

On Christmas offerings bring: 
Gifts of love and hearts made new, 

Resolves to better be; 
For the influence of Him who died 

Lives on eternally. 

— Jfrs. E. L. Pleasant. 




THE MUSIC OF THE BIRDS. 

HEARD the sweetest carol, a rippling, trilling tune, 
Chanted by the song birds — a melody for June. 
u| Strains of music in minors, and bi'oken little trills 
Like the water's silver echo o'er the pebbled rills. 

Come wonderful music, most beautiful music. 

Songs of silvery words; 
The sweetest of music, the tenderest music, — 
The music of the birds. 

It echoes through the woodland, reaching far and near. 
Silvery notes so thrilling methinks I yet can hear, 
Pulsing in rapture like the singing of a stream, 
The lyric, limpid carol, in ecstacy it teems 

With wonderful music, most beautiful music, 

Songs of silvery words; 
The sweetest of music, the tenderest music, — 
The music of the birds. 

Like a violin a-trilling over trembling strings, 
Rippling a passionate rhythm of love as he sings, 
Till there was charming music in every leaf that stirred: 
Oh, how 1 wished I knew the little songster's word. 
Oh, wonderful music, such beautiful music. 

Song of silvery words; 
The sweetest of music, the tenderest music, — 
The music of the birds. 

- — David Edley AUyn. 



73 



TODAY AND TOMORROW. 




E love Today, yes, fondly, 

Though Tomorrow holds in view 
A fair prophetic picture 
Of pleasures fresh and new. 
We love Today, 'tis ours, — 

Of Tomorrow who can tell? 
Where promised ships may anchor? 
What breeze its sails may swell? 

We love Today, it liveth; 

Tomorrow is not yet, 
Although its birth is heralded. 

Its native hour set. 
O, yes, we love the present, 

Love it all the more 
When its broad portals are ajar. 

Its sunlight on the Hoor. 

Within the Future's mansion. 

When the bars are Hung aside. 
We may find it all as earnest 

As in its pictured pride; 
But not until we're greeted 

By Aurora's vanguard gay. 
Can we ever love Tomorrow 

As we have loved Today. 
For Tomorrow never comes 
Into human hearts and homes. 

— Mrs. Davis Cox. 



74 



HATRED. 

ATRED, like a poisonous dart 

Shot by a marksman true, 
1 In silent cunning does its work, 



Piercing the poor heart through; 
Or, like an evil serpent, 

It stings the very soul; 
While the vision is enchanted. 

The poison seeks its goal. 

It drives its victims on and on, 

They find no rest below; 
Its name is written on the wall 

Of every place they know; 
Ghost-like, it haunts their footsteps, 

They shudder, and they call 
For help divine, on God recline, 

Till in their graves they fall. 

3Iyra 31. Mac Well. 



75 




WHERE. 

TjOOK upon the sunny fields, 
I see them fair aud bright, 
And something whispers nie of things 
Tiiat lie Leyond their light. 

I look upon tlie Hoatiug clouds, 

As on and on they go; 
They seem to bear my heart with them 

To scenes I long to know, 

I listen to the winds that breathe 

Their secrets in my ear, 
Aud fain upon their wings Td tly, 

Without a doubt or fear. 

And ye, strange waters, liowMug on, 

I look and list to ye, 
Aud wnlder grows the yearning still. 

More tierce the wish to tiee. 

Oh heart ! where can you restiug lie 

Unstirred by deeper things, 
Untouched by feathery pinions white 

Of viewless angels' wings ? 

- — M. I. Claiborne. 



70 




THE HOUR OF TWILIGHT. 

HE liour of twilight is stealing 
Softly o'er land and sea, 
\Vra]»ijing around me her mantle 
Of j)ea('e and harmony. 

Now the snn\s herce rays are hidden 

Quietly from our sight, 
And we hail the twilight gladly. 

The messenger of night. 

A feeling of peace comes o'er me. 
Soothing the aching heart; 

It cheers the droo])ing spirit, 
And bids despair depart. 

A hush has fallen around me; 

The children at their play, 
No longer merrily shouting. 

Quietly wend their way. 

One golden haired darling 

Softly climbs to my knee; 
With her dimpled arms entwining, 

She nestles close to me. 



And thus, in the calm still twilight. 
Sweet rest I find once more; 

And peace to my sad forebodings 
Comes to me o'er and o'er. 



— Addie Paine Snot/x 




FRIENDSHIP FOR ME. 

OVE often grows cold, but true friendship, never ; 
Such friendship will last and keep warm — aye, forever ! 
Then friendship for me 
That never grows cold : 
Aye, aye, forever ! 

Love often deceives, a pure friendship, rarely ; 
Hearts, bared "face to face", see each other clearly : 

Pure friendship for me, 

That rarely deceives — 

Aye, aye, forever ! 

Love often will die ! It sinks 'raid the billows 

Of trouble — and so it soon sleeps 'neath green willows : 

O, friendship for me, 

That woe cannot kill ! 

Aye, aye, forever! 

Love often is blind : tbou poor, foolish creature ! 
Solomon's wisdom would e'en fail to teach you I 

A friendship for me, 

That never goes blind — 

Aye, aye, forever ! 

Love often will change and cause bitter sorrow : 
'Tis yours for to-day — another's tomorrow. 

Sweet friendship for me ! 

That never knows change — 

Aye, aye, forever ! 

— Hattie P. Weadon. 




A COLORADO NIGHT. 

HE moon is drifting o'er the peaks 

All capped with crowns of snowy 
white, 
ReHected from the tumbling creeks 

Which murmur to the ear of night. 
Across the rocks her waning light 

Is lavished with a soothing glow 
On sleeping Nature — dreaming quite, 

The dreams which dreamers love to know; 
While in the pines 
The whispering winds 
Rock coney cradles to and fro. 

The moon is down; the world is dark; 

A faint light lingers o'er the crest 
Of distant peaks, which dimly mark 

The ragged range along the west. 
The sinking stars upon the breast 

Of midnight pause, and twinkle o'er 
Yon western world — as if they rest 

And rest, and rest, to spin no more: 
While in the pines 
The nestling winds 

Are whispering softer than before. 

— Lyman H. Sproull. 



79 




AN AUTUMN REVERIE. 

HE old mill has gone to decay, 

And fond recollections appear 
Of many a day that passed away 
While I sat listening here. 
But the murmuring waters will never pour 
O'er the moss covered wheel that turns no more. 

And I sit by the river side 

On this sad October day, 
Watching fleets glide down the lazy tide, 

That were born in the breath of May; 
But gaily flaunting their colors bright. 
The dead leaves are drifting into the night! 

And thus it must be with us all; 

Though the Spring be warm and bright. 
There cometh a Fall, with an icy pall. 

And a burial out of sight. 
Where the sluggish pulses coldly creep 
'Neath the pallid shroud of a wintry sleep. 

But the robin will come again. 

And the tinted bud appear; 
The April rain is ne'er in vain, 

Though the branches look so drear; 
The mayflower but dreams in a perfumed bed. 
With a snow white coverlet overhead. 

Man, too, hath his early bloom, 

A flower time and summer bright; 
But a little room in a lonely tomb. 

And a grave stone strangely white 
Soon guai'd his remains, while they waiting lie 
For the spring time of immortality. 

—Dr. A. W. Parsons. 

80 




EVENTIDE. 

OW sweet, beneath an azure sky 
E'en as the daylight closes, 
To catch the evening zephyr's sigh 
Fresh from the hearts ot" roses. 

To walk beneath the shady trees, 

And ponder o'er the lesson 
That lies within the fallen leaves, 

So soon to be forgotten. 

How sweet the far oft" distant soun I 

Of cowbells homeward coming ; — ■ 

To breathe the mellow fragrance round 
And list the wild bees humming. 

To catch the gentle west wind's sigh, 

3Iurmuring as it passes ; 
And watch the lowing herds go by, 

Nipping the tender grasses. 

Oh ! give to me this resting place, 

Amid the poor and holy ; 
And whei'e sweet violets will grace 

My bed among the lowly. 

And plant ye here beside the spot, 
E'en where the head stone raises, 

A sweet, blue-eyed forget-me-not, 
To mingle with the daisies. 



-Jane 



81 



MAIDENHOOD. 




AIR maiden, who dost in the dusk of eve 
To stray in wooded dales thy chamber leave, 
Thy heart beats with joy that so pure and 
good 
Has throbbed against sin's dark attacks withstood, 
As thou seest the heavens' serenest blue. 
Methinks the stars had a softer hue, 
Sweet maid, were the mild, blue depths of thine eyes 
Raritied in the vast and tender skies. 

What! Hast thou lost thy way, sweet maid? 'Tis sol 
The tall trees' shadows darker, gloomier grow; 
And yet, methinks, could I but see thy face, 
Through darkest nights any path would I pace, 
And would never note in heaven's eastern luiglit. 
Glorious Morn sending his inferior light — 
Unless his coming I should hear thee greet, 
And a prayer spoken by thy lips so sweet, 
A sweet little chalice they from where may be 
A rosiness too dear for me to see. 

Thus live, and he for whom thy heart doth beat 
Ere many years have run their courses licet 
Will make thee a sweet virgin in heaven; 
And if there a place to me is given, 
Not 'mid angels in purest white arrayed. 
Shall I look in that world of bliss, sweet maid, 
To see thy beauty; but still nearer Him; 
For fairer than 'round the heads of seraphim 
He'll make thee with smiles sweet and tender. 
An aureol of virginal splendor. 

— Anatolr Bachamh 



82 




THE BLIND PLAYER. 

S I sat one summer eveuing near the window in my 
room, 
Gazing on the distant landscape e'er it faded in the 
gloom, 
Suddenly a strain of music cleft the air, and circling round, 
Filled my heart with tender rapture, held my senses in a bound. 

Ah, so soft those chords came creeping, as though struck by 

spirit hands. 
That they wooed me on to dreamland where I saw brioht anoel 

bands. 
Sweeping on to this pure music led by one so calm and fair 
In a robe of gleaming whiteness and a crown of jewels rare. 

Then more clearly rang the measure, but beneath a murmur 

plain, 
As my player at his pleasure caused a note to thrill with pain: 
flad he knowledge ot" the memory that his music woke in one 
Who had seen his darling dying at the setting of th(! sun? 

Yes, it seemed he held communion with the spirit that had 

flown, 
For my player left his organ, stealing to the door unknown, 
Just to smile up to my window, but I saw that he was blind, 
And I knew he had the talent that is given to his kind. 

Years have passed since that soft nocturne woke an echo most 

divine, 
Gave my life a gentle longing that no power can define, 
Yet I know my player somewhere, in this weary world of care, 
Makes sweet music for a brother who has sorrow hard to bear. 

— J^rances Augustine G<n'sford. 
8:^ 




CONSCIENCE. 

HOLT) in my hand the skull of my lover; 

I look in the sockets, the eyes are not there; 
I count the white teeth, and turning it over 
I find on the temple a lock of brown hair. 

Oh horrible thing! hast been a white forehead? 

Have I felt thy cheek press'd warmly to mine? 
Fleshless lip, hast thou oft-times smilingly said 

Thou wouldst speak from the grave to claim me as thine? 

Though, my beloved, thou didst sadly perish. 

And he whom thon rivalled hath sent this to me, 

"Found on the battle-fiekr' — vengeance to cherish, 
Knowing I loved thee; I loved none l)ut tliee! 

Oh voiceless relic, so hideous now, 

Canst tell of the battle, the shock and the i)ain? 
Canst whisper of awful things seen — and of how, 

And of where we shall meet and love one again? 

Has the dark o' thine eyes melted in the night skies? 

Thy blood, is it spilled in Death's Lethean stream? 
Art thou happier now since grown Heaven-wise? 

Or — Oh, mercy on me! I've had such a dream! 

I'll jump out of bed; Til write him a letter; 

I'll say — "Come home on a furlough at once! 
I know now I love you as well — yes — e'en better. 

Than creed or than country. Your own little — Dunce." 

— Eva S. Grant. 



84 




WHISPERS OF NATURE. 

II I the whispers of nature are soothing and calm, 
Tiiey come to my heart like a sweet, heavenly 
halm 

When, weary and sad with life's most bitter woes, 
I wander along where the calm, clear river flows. 
The bright waves, that softly are rippling along, 
Echos in my heart like an old sad sweet song; 
And the wind whispers soft, in its sad moaning way, 
And the night-bird is drearaingly singing his lay. 

Bright fragrant flowers, both lovely and rare. 
Whisper their love in the pure evening air 
Sending their perfume far out on the breeze. 
To be carried away by the fluttering leaves; 
And the soft golden moon looks down from on liigh 
Like a symbol of heaven far up in the sky. 
All nature is whispering in perfect delight — 
Whispering its joys on this sweet summer night. 

Sweet nature, thy whispers are balm to my heart! 
They dry my wet lashes when sad tear-drops start; 
They tell of a peace with our Father above 
Where there is no more pain, but rest and calm love. 
There's no misunderstanding in that fair land of rest. 
And if we suffer here God surely thinks best; 
But amid our deep anguish fair nature He gave 
To ease by its whispers the souls Christ did save. 

— Josephine L<i Celia Arquette. 



t)5 




IDEAL LOVE. 

BEY loved at eight and ten, 'tis true; 
And while each little heart was pure 
They felt what is possessed by few,— 
A sympathy of soul with soul. 



The twenties came, and found them then 

With smiles like Spring; for this they thought, 
That ne'er had been, ne'er'd be again, 

A love so pure, so true as theirs. 

The forties came, and still they smiled 

And said, "We ne'er knew love before. 

Mow can the youth be so beguiled? 

They think a germ a plant full grown." 

The eighties found them at the door 

Of death, and trustfully they said, 

"Because we love our God, the more 

We love each other here below. 

"But not until we've passed the vale, 

Can love like ours completed be; 

Our souls may then in freedom sail. 

And love its stature will have grown." 

— ./. E. Baldvin. 



8(5 




REMEMBRANCE. 

|EMEMBRANC'E!"On a fair magnolia bloom, 
GuidiDg with careful baud his peu of steel, 
The soldier, in a land afar from home, 
Wrote the fond word — of cherished faith the seal: 
Then from the parent stem he set the floweret free 

To float upon a fountain's crystal tide, 
Till V)right and flawless gleamed his tracery — 
Till meet the tender message for his bride. 

Beyond that sunny reach unto the white snow-land 

Sped the sweet gift, and on the Christmas day 
It lay at last upon her gentle hand. 

While there she bowed her head caressingly: 
"Remembrance!" ere this flower, so on my heart 

His valiant deeds, baptized in freedom's cause. 
Long since engraved by duty's nobler part — 

To make his absence thus joy's unrepining pause. 

— Daisy Kellar. 




RISEN. 

KIHT closed around Jerusalem, her temples aud her 
homes; 
The empty cross was standing on the hillside dark 
and lone; 
And in the early morning the Marys went their way 
Asking in fear aud wonder, "Who will roll the stone away?" 

They reached the open sepulchre, an angel sat thereon, 
The woman stood affrighted before the shining^ one. 
"Jesus of Nazareth here you seek — be not afraid," he said, 
"He is not here, but risen. Behold the empty bed." 

And these dear women went away the tiding glad to tell; 
When Jesus' form rose in their path, the form they loved so 

well. 
His gracious word, "Joy to you all," in his own accents 

kind, 
"Be not afraid, but go and tell the brethren ye shall find." 

Oh, speed thee, Maryl speed thee, the tidings glad to tell. 
And there among the brethren proclaim that all is well; 
The night of death is over, and Jesus has come forth; 
The day of resurrection dawns that brings Him ba(;k to 
earth. 

The echoes of their footsteps have never died away. 
For women's feet are running with glad tidings to this day; 
To woman comes the angel, and then her risen Lord, 
Then the divine command, "Go tell the message of my word." 

— Belle IT. Jones. 



88 




THE YULE SONG. 

HAT is peace?" sighed the hero, in armor dressed, 
As he fastened the plume in his knightly crest. 
And strode gallantly forth on the martial quest, 
While his pulses throbbed tunuiltuously. 
"Peace is rest unknown." So the grey-haired sire repined, 
"For with the conqueror's laurel, it hath close entwined 
The olive branch of harmony toward all mankind." 

"What is hope?" he murmured, in the conflict's heat, 
As he anxiously sighted the dire defeat, 
But marched slowly on, his doom to meet; 
While his soul rebelled despairingly. 
"Hope our solace is," a wounded comrade whispered near, 
"The day-star which illumes the vista of gloom and fear, 
And faith's fair harbinger in life's stern career." 

"What is Christ?" he breathed, as through the prison gate. 
Stole the gladsome notes of the carolling waits. 
While the strain with the pean of Heaven vibrates. 

And his spirit yearned responsively. 
"Christ is peace and hope!" the listening angel cried. 
"Hark, hark! the joybells are pealing it far and wide, 
'Tis the love-given message of the Christmas-tide." 

— Minide Anita Williams. 



89 




FRIENDLY MOON. 

LADY 80 stately, so silvery pale, 
Attends my bedside at niglit without fail; 
lu a robe of fine vapor from lowland or vale 
This friend watclies o'er me. 



She comes to my side as the elf would at night, — 
Cares not for opinion of neighbor or sprite, — 
Climbing thorn ladder of rose bush so light. 
This friend watches o'er me. 

She prefers not the door, but knot-hole or chink — , 
She springs through a crevice — the witch — at a wink. 
Bathes my dark hair silver white, ere I can think. 
This friend watches o'er me. 

I oft try to chain her in loving embrace. 
But she slips through my fingers — empty the space; 
Time's no disenchanter, she holds first place — 
This friend watches o'er me. 

She revels in snow of the ocean I love; 
1 think her engulfed to ne'er come above; 
But she's still at my bedside, the same old true love — 
This friend watches o'er me. 

Mrs. EIIa( T. I/(iIii''s. 



00 




THE BOOK OF FAME. 

(iREAT many years have I waited 

By that guarded book of fame, 
Hoping, ])raj erf ally longing, 
For a place to write my naine. 



My name, would it stand, I wonder 

IJy those of a nation's pride? 

Or would it grow dim ere subsided 

The waves of the in-coming tide? 

My name, — how gladly I'd write it 

In characters bold and free. 
While on earth are lingering 

Those whose delight is in me I 

Of what avail, I pouder, 

If the world slugs of my deeds. 
When, gone to my last long slumber, 

I rest 'neath the willow trees? 

Shall 1 know if they come for a token 

At my grave 'neath the blue arch 
above. 

At the foot of the tall weeping willow. 

By the side of the ones that I love? 

--J/. /. Campbell. 



91 



VASHTI. 

[IRO' all the paths of life, where man hath made his 
ways, 
Who more than she deserving of great praise, 
Who spite of home or king sought virtue's throne to serve? 
None were more pure or true than Vashti fair. 
Doomed in Persia's distant land to share 
The most dreadful fate, in darkness and despair, 
That Ahasuerus, the cruel despot king. 
Bethought to visit upon men or things. 
A lordly feast he sj^read for all, both far and near, 
Whose splendors none might know save they who shared its 

board. 
Throughout the realm all hastened without fear. 
To feast 'neath courtly stuff of richest hue, 
Tasseled o'er silken beds on pavements red and blue. 
Merry the king with wine; and all the chambei'lains line 
Were ordered to bring the king Vashti the fair. 
Why starts the queen before the courtiers' hand? 
"What! Go? Not I, before the princes of the land." 
Better had the king praised thee for thy priceless worth; 
For thou wcrt a jewel set in a dark age 
When man's untutored mind knew less of God and right, 
The very things which should men's hearts delight. 
Thy name, oh, Vashti! ever beaming like a star, 
Tells that kings and thrones are naught to (iod and right. 

— Mary L. Mor eland. 



J) 2 



A SYLVAN RETREAT. 




HIS mystic nook with myrtle bovvers, 
Pierian shades, amaranthine flowers; 

This purling willowed stream, 
Sweet violets and daisies true, 
With perfumed breath and matchless hue, 
Are fairer than a dream. 



Coy dryads, nymphs and elfin fays 
Sport in the moonlight's silvery rays. 

And the teetee swings and laughs; 
Gay feathered songsters carol love 
'Mid leafy boughs that wave above 

In sunlight's golden shafts. 

Soft crooning chime of voices sweet. 
Add witcheries to this retreat; 

Drone flies and buzzing bee 
From cauldrons fair sip dewy spice; — 
Elysium this — a paradise — 

Queen Mab's throne on the lea. 

— Mary Hart Strihlhig- 



93 



TO THE POET. 




HEN the furious battle is storming and raging, 

When Man is the servant and Lead is his master, 
When the cannon arc roaring in rapid succession 
And Avhelniing all round them in deadly disaster ; 
When the blood of the conquered is trickling and streaming, 

When bosoms are burning and senses are freezing, 
When in volumes their moans are uprising to heaven, 
Uprising, unheeded, the battle unceasing ; — 
Soldier-drummer, beat your drum, 
Soften, cleanse the wicked soul ! 
I>alm of Gilead give the hearts, — 
Hearts that lost their end or goal I 

In the strife of the world, untiring aud brutal. 

Where Love is a vision and Mammon is master, 
Where the weak and the decent, the true and the noble, 

Are victims of Avrong, of disgrace, and disaster ; 
Where the ground 'licath the warriors in fearful convulsions 

Is thrown by the sight of the ))lood of our Abels, 
Where the monsters rejoice o'er the dead au'l defeated, — 
Defeated that fell in our sin-stricken Babels; — 
Soldier-poet, beat your drum. 
Rap upon each wicked soul. 
Creep into each brutish heart. 
Beat and teach them, — that's your role ! 

Do not weaken when mocked while performing your mission; 

Your fate is to suffer, to teach is your duty ; 
In your own heart and soul are your shield aud your armor ; 

Go, preach to mankind, then of Right, Love, and Beauty! 

— Herman BerHSteiit. 



94 




APRIL DAYS. 

RKtIIT, bright, bright, o'er meadow, hill and way 
Streams the brilliant sun of the closing April day; 
She of changeful moods is one of beauty now, 
And around us is the fragrance of the waving apple bough. 

Sweet, sweet, sweet, Oh happy birds atune! 

Far sweeter is your music now than in the days of .June. 

Full, soft the shadows slant, while a glory rises soon. 

And our eyes reflect the ra<liance of the early gleaming moon. 

Sad, sad, sad, these April days to me; 

Yet 'tis more than heart can tell what to me they used to be, 
While I listened for your steps at our trysting in the dell, 
And my ears would catch the music of the voice I loved so well. 

False, false, false, were the words you spoke to me; 
O, dear one, now I wonder how you could so faithless be. 
Even now I see you standing with the moonlight on your face, 
And your noble boyish figure thrown out in lines of grace; 

And now the years have drifted; with bright men you take 

your place; 
'Tis as strangers that we meet — a mere j)assing face to face. 
Your voice to me is formal at the meeting of cur ways; 
Yet I would give, oh, — worlds! to know that you remember 

A])ril days. 

O sun, shine bright! O hearts, delight! 

Moon send rays, and birds trill lays and bring all joys to April 

days; 
While my lone heart in sorrow shall take its grief and care, 
And burden of sad memories, which is all to me they bear. 

— Ida ElUs. 
95 



A TRIBUTE. 




E read of brave and glorious deeds 

By men of valor done. 
J We read of how they held a pass 
From rise till set of sun, — 

The pass that's called Thermopylea 

They nobly did defend; 
'Till of three hundred one was left 

To tell how it did end. 



And have not men iu our own time, 
Fought just as brave and well, 

And shown their Spartan valor 
For history to tell? 

God bless our own bi-ave fellows 
Who dared the arms of Spain, 

And fought for liberty and right — 
Their battle cry "The Maine!" 

God bless you, noble heroes, 

You have bravely done your part; 
And your memory will be sacred 

In every honest heart. 

When God's trump calls all nations 
To the grand and last review, 

I pray both crown and victor's palm 
Be freely given to you. 



— Myrtle Ross. 




LONE MOUNTAIN'S LONE BARD. 

WANDERER through Lone Mountain's maze, 
Views plats surpassing fair: 
Rare marble slabs reward his gaze, 
Rich pillars draped with care; 
Mounds erst-while through the grassy mead 

Flower-decked by love he spies; 
Till looms neglected, grown with weeds. 
The spot where Pollock lies. 

His soul in sweet "Italia" speaks, 

And in "Olivia" breathes, 
While in his nature's stranger freaks, 

His spirit's wisdom seethes; 
Thus, in farewell lest grief should mar. 

He bade us to remind. 
That those who go are happier 

Than those they leave behind. 

Alas, O world, beyond this sphere 

He dreamed life held not worth. 
Nor love could bind, nor joy nor tears. 

Longer his soul to earth; 
E'en now. Immortal Bard, what need 

A tomb aloft to raise, 
Save to avow a tardy meed, 

Our pride, thy name to praise? 

Speed, fernwood leaf, from one who stood, 

Spell-bound in childhood's hour. 
Mind eloquence to glean — rich food. 

Soul smiles to gain — sweet dower; 
Knowing full well the poet's lot 

Fate set supremely hard; 
Mark, leaflet frail, one bleak lone spot 

Claims California's bard. 

— E. Fermcood. 

97 



THE DYING DAUGHTER. 




|0T11EK, let me go to Jesus, 

He is whispering me to come, 
He, who from all sufferino- frees us, 
Offers me a brighter home. 

Darling, can I live without you? 

How can I tear you from my lieart? 
And I sliall think so much about you — 

Oh, 'tis hard for us to part. 

Mother, soou you'll cease your mourning. 
You'll lay down your heavy load. 

And meet me 'mid the bright adorning 
Of the palaces of God. 

Darling, I would fain surrender 

All the claim I have in you; 
But my feelings are so tender 

It seems more than I can do. 

Mother, I would loathe to leave you 

Battling with the world alone. 
Were I not hoping to receive you 

Where painful j)artings are unknown. 

Darling, now my faith grows stronger. 

And 1 walk in clearer light; 
I would not detain you longer, 

Let me kiss my last good-night. 

Mother, now the scene grows brighter 

With a radiance from the sky, 
Clasj) my hand a little tighter. 

And, till we meet again, good-by! 

— Rev. fos. II. nUL: 
98 



ADVICE TO A MOTHER. 




RET not th}self, dear mother, 
If thy daughter's called to go; 
For heaven above is better 
Than earth is, here below. 



Remember, oh, my mother. 

That she's with Him above, 
And He receives His children, 

With such sweet, tender love. 

Fret not thyself, dear mother. 

If thy son is called to go; 
To march beneath the stars and stripes. 

To tight a Spanish foe. 

Remember, oh, my mother. 

That God is always near. 
And he that is in danger, 

Need have no cause to fear. 

Fret not thyself, dear mother. 

When life is ebbing slow, — 
If you Death's gates must enter, 

'Tis God that wills it so. 

Remember, oh, my mother, 

Though earthly life must cease, 

You've left footprints behind you. 
To guide us on to peace. 

— Florence Ursula SJunlford. 



9<J 



WE SHALL MISS HER. 




E shall miss her, now she's gone: 

Miss her kind and patient smile, 
Miss the words of comfort spoken 
In a voice so sweet and mild. 
Truest friend to kindred, stranger, 

Kindest mother, truest wife, 
Gone beyond this vale of sorrow 

To that world where joy is rife. 

We shall miss her in the meetings 

That were once her chief delight 
For it was her one ambition 

In the ranks of God to fight. 
Often have we, in those meetings, 

Knelt while this dear sister prayed. 
Asking God in accents tender 

Some poor wandering soul to save. 

Yes, we miss you, dearest sister; 

But tonight we seem to see 
Your sweet face and hear your voice 

Speaking, oh, so lovingly: 
"Brother, sister, oh, be faithful. 

Do not from the Savior stray; 
For I'm waiting now to greet you 

In the realm of endless day." 

Yes, we miss you, dearest sister. 

And the thought gives deepest pain; 
Still we know, though lost to us here. 

Our sad loss is heaven's great gain; 
And we know if we }»rove faithful, 

True and faithful to the end. 
That ere long we all shall meet you. 

Truest mother, wife and friend. 

- — Rebecca Schmid. 
100 




OPPORTUNITY. 

HINK not what you would do if life were changed 
And fate had otherwise your lot decreed, 
But do the work which now you find arranged 
And at your hand, — -'tis this you need. 

Dream not of great deeds while you idly stand. 
Waiting the time to come when you shall do; 

Now is the time — there's greatness near at hand; 
You need not wait for it, it waits for you. 

If in your life true greatness lingers. 

Waiting the hour to come to bud and bloom, 

Be patient: Time Avill come, with willing fingers 
Sever all bonds, and give that greatness room. 

Life is of our own making; what we are 

Lies Avith ourselves. The canvas plain 
Waits for our hand to place with care 

The lights and shades which mark each joy and pain. 

So let us live that, when the summons's sounded, 

We gladly lay life's brush forever down; 
The picture by a halo be surrounded 

Of good deeds done, fit jewels for a crown. 

— M. Maynard. 



101 




THE BOY HERO OF SANTIAGO. 

ALM and brave, with courageous eye, 
lie sighted the battle afar, 
No fear of bloody fields. 
Nor yet afraid to die. 
The youngest of that gallant band 

To the Seventy-first belonged; 
And on the day of that awful fray, 

When near the enemy thronged, 
With feai'lessness and obedience on messages he went, 
And never once did falter when as courier he was sent. 
This at Santiago, where many fell on the field; 
But he survived and elsewhei-e good service did he yield. 
And when his comrades once again came home, he with them 

came, 
Though when he reached his father's house disease had made 

its claim 
Upon his health and strength, and fever burned his ])rain. 

He talked of war in the language of camp, 
He voiced the shrill orders that had rung down the trench; 

In delirium's mad ravings, when his brow was all damp 
With the dews of grim Death, with one strong wrench 
He sat up and called for the clothes he had worn, 
The dearly loved uniform, faded and torn. 

He fondled it proudly, and his eye gleamed bright 
As one arm he feebly pushed into a sleeve; 

And his friends drew nearer, appalled at the sight. 
For a moment he sat there striving once more 
To put on those garments, the harness of war; 
Then, as if his name had been reached in the roll. 
His strength seemed to fail, though dauntless his will — 
He made a last effort, sank back — and was still. 

—J/iss Nellie M. Frice. 

102 




A PROMISE. 

S surely we know 

Somewhere under the snow 
The flowers are waiting release, 
God's promise will bring to us i)eace. 
After the night comes morning''s light. 

Thougli darkness may tall 

Like a j)all over all 
And drift clou<ls o'er the vale of Peace, 
Still never this glad song shall cease. 
After the night comes morning's light. 

The clouds that float by 

Hide the stars in the sky; 
The dark shadows of life will flee 
In God's own linu'; then we shall see 
The grand light of eternity. 

There are deeds of beauty, 

Born of love and duty; 
And the shattered joys that grieve us, 
May be false lights to deceive us, 
For God's love will never leave us. 

O souls aweary 

With life so dreary, 
Be brave, be strong, and smile at fate, 
L(^arning life's lesson —hope and wait — 
A step from Earth's shadow to Heaven's gate. 

— rill lit Ik I A. 3Ierry weather. 



103 



VICTORY. 




O have the martyrs past 
Gained victory at last, 
^ ^^^^^^ When they have seen in stone 



The image of their own, 
Engraven there by those 
Whose mind progressive grows. 

It is not strange to see 

Stones in their memory 

On the same spot they died. 

As Bruno's victory cried, 

When he long years before. 

Had gained from truth's rich store. 

What since had reason proved — 

That worlds revolving moved. 

New truths are sought to-day. 
By reason, the same way, 
While the great masses cry, 
"This truth must be a lie!" 
In ages yet will he 
See his gain victory 
That now they would ignore, 
As those that lived before. 



■Laura A. Sunderlin Nourse. 



104 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFF. 




11, the mystery of life, 

In which joy and sorrow blend! 
Will the mystery be solved 
When this life has had an end? 

God did not mean for us to know 

The cause of what on earth we see; 

lie only meant that we should be 
Kitted here for eternity. 

Who can doubt lie dwells above? 

We have but to look to see 
That He is everywhere, — 

A glance is enough for me. 

Without the (4od in whom I trust, 

I should fear to live, and I 
Without His aid and love 

Should be afraid to die. 

I need llis aid to win the crown 

That in Heaven I hope to wear, 

But I must have it fairly won, 

Though the cross I scarce can bear. 

Josephine Wright Jliiids. 



lUy 




HEREAFTER. 

HERE is a power we can't deny 
Beyond this world, beyond the sky, 
That day by day and hour by hour 
Bolsters our faith by divine power. 

If we could only pierce the gloom 
Beyond this lite, beyond the tomb, 
As for our death the time draws near 
We'd greet the end without a fear. 

If sleep and death be truly one — 
As in a trance we slumber on 
Knowing not the passing time. 
We'd meet our fate with faith sublime. 

Doubts touch the heart, aloud we cry; 
We pray these doubts, these thoughts may die, 
That newer knowledge and light be shed — 
Is another life only fancy fed '? 

They tell us, with a touch of scorn, 
'J'he doubting heart is evil born, 
Perplexed in faith; but this is so. 
The state of death no man doth know. 

Aura G. Haddock. 



106 




THE SNOW'S CONSOLATION. 

jlHE leaves are dancing merrily in the breeze, 
Waving, fluttering and whirling on the trees, 
Unconscious of the future and of time; 
In robes of green they're happy and sublime. 

Autumn comes along their way, 
And busies him throughout the day 
In mixing tints of brightest hue, 
And rummaging the woods all through. 

The time is nigh, the work begun. 
No space for tears before 'tis done. 
The wind speaks with a gruff command: 
"You revelers must now disband." 

Then changed the robe of beauteous green 
Ere human eyes had scarcely seen — 
To colors dear to Autumn's eye. 
Before they fall to curl, to die. 

The trees, once so erect, sedate. 

Do shiver and with sighs relate 

How they were robbed of all their clothes, 

And left to winter storms exposed. 

But the snow in tender pity falls. 
And passing through the air it calls: 
"Be calm! Til cover up your dead. 
And wrap my mantle 'round your head." 

— Gipsi/ May Rhoads. 



107 




LINKS TO HEAVEN. 

WAS a beautiful legend as given of old, 
That angels of mercy placed barriers of gold 
To shorten the pathway of mortals at birth, 
Whom fate had intended for sorrows of earth. 

And the pure deep fount of the angel's love 
Baptised the babe with dews from above, 
Which gathered in gems of crystalline light. 
Like beauteous stars on the curtains of night. 

But soon it slept, and the angel fair 

Placed a crow^n of gold on its sunny hair; 

And the grim silent boatman then carried it o'er 

To the bright land beyond, on the mystical shore, 

Where loved ones were w^aiting to welcome it in, 
Away from life's cares and its trouble and sin; 
And they led it through scenes that were heavenly fair. 
Which henceforth the child in their number should share. 

And now all together they'll W'atch and they'll wait, 
Close by the side of the beautiful gate, 
While the pitying angels bend earthward in love. 
And link the dear hearts to their own hearts above. 

— Jlrs. M. Pickering. 



108 




RETRIBUTION. 

jE remembered our valiant countrymen of tbe Maine, 
Who blindly trusted the treacherous ports of Spain. 
We thought of their sad fate, and avenged their 
wrong; 
And let their fearful death knell be our battle song. 

We left home, 'neath the flag, went to Cuba, fought our best, 
And rightly helped free a people who were oppressed. 
Since cruel Spain would not think of humanity, 
We bravely taught her a lesson of humility. 

And now the lovely stars and stripes wave proudly to the 

breeze 
In giving freedom to those islands of the seas. 
There has been no record of braver deeds ever left to fame. 
Than by the immortal crews who sailed for the Spanish main- 

— Anna Lee. 



109 



FADELESS IS A LOVING HEART. 




OUTHFUL eyes may lose their brightness; 

Youthful feet forget their lightness; 

Whitest teeth may soon decay; 
Golden tresses turn to gray; • 

Cheeks be hollow, eyes be dim; 
Faint the voice and weak the limb; 
But though youth and strength depart, 
Fadeless is a loving heart. 

—M. S. Baker 



110 




A REVIEW. 

|S I wandered forth in the even's gloaming, 

In a thoughtful mood, through the twilight roaming 
I came on a hidden elfin nook, 
Close by the shimmering silver brook, 

I sat me down by the hawthorne tree 
In silent thought, while fancy free. 
In retrospect, was viewing o'er 
The life that was past and gone before. 

How much belter 'twere, if we might see 
The life that is to come, to be: 
What favors the future holds in store 
As we are knocking at the door. 

Of Tomorrow, and asking, "Who holds the key?" 
'Tis answered: "My children, that is to be 
Revealed upon the other tloor — 
Who'll hold the key and unlock the door. 

"That i? the key that wise men sought; 
That golden key no angel wrought, 
That will unlock that pearly door 
And reveal Tomorrow's golden store." 

— Lievi W. Mc Cormick. 



Ill 



HEAVEN'S LADDER. 




OW could I climb'::' They said it was so high; 
Remote as any star, how could 1 enter 
Even its border hinds, or gates of peace? 

And because I had no wi'igs ts Hy 

I sent my soul in prayer to Heaven's resposeful center. 

When lol a little blue flower at my feet; 
The carol of a homing vesper sparrow; 
The shimmering wings of a silver butterfly 
Built in a ladder; so my soul sped fleet. 
As from a bow to Heaven the faithful arrow. 

— Mary J. Woodward Weatherhee. 



112 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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